


like the ocean

by hobijam



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Ambiguous Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobijam/pseuds/hobijam
Summary: Seawater naturally runs in their veins, having grown so close to the ocean. But like the turbulent sea, it's only a matter of when, not if, the storms will pass through their relationship. The torrential winds will capsize boats and tear off roofs, giant swells will destroy docks and wash away the shore. Yifan will down his drinks and take his perscriptions, and Junmyeon will manipulate and control. Bridges will burn and bruises will form.But they always say, 'I love you,' afterwards, so they must be some sort of okay...





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey so watch out this is an abusive relationship where both parties are toxic ahhh

The waves crash on the sand. They are unaware of Joonmyeon standing on their beach, watching them. They don’t care. The life of a tiny human does not concern the vast ocean. Ceaseless, it pounds upon the shore, splinters driftwood against sharp outcrops of water.

Joonmyeon turns away, begins to walk towards one of the many steep pathways carved by decades of feet climbing up the face of the black cliffs.

At the top of the cliff he faces is an isolated house. Its blue paint would blend in with the pale sky, if the sun could ever burn away the heavy clouds. Really, the house more of a shack with port windows and a mossy roof, barely able to keep out the sea spray that whips up to the clifftop in the heavy wind. Its three creaking wood rooms built from salvaged ships are what he and Yifan call home. Secretly, it’s just four walls to keep out the damp, rotting marine fog and the oppressive rain that pours from the sky almost daily. It won’t be a home. Not until things change.

The gravelly sand of the beach shifts underneath his boots. The sand is damp and the pebbles that dot it are slick from last night's rain and the accompanying morning fog.  Gulls scream in the gray sky; there’s never enough food, never enough crabs on the rocky cliffs that crumble into the sea, never any tourists to bring bread. The white birds circle over his head, screeching out a warning:

_Don’t go home. Don’t go home._

Joonmyeon wishes he had the strength.

A giant figure in a red windbreaker is making its way down the path from the clifftop house, picking its way along and nearly falling to its death a few times. Yifan’s never been very careful on the paths. Joonmyeon hates it. Hates the worry it causes him, hates that Yifan can’t see how much it scares him.

He supposes he loves Yifan, in some sort of way. There’s been trials in their relationship. Sometimes they hold each other in psych ward visiting areas, sometimes Joonmyeon has to bail Yifan out when he’s caught with a prescription that doesn’t match his name. Maybe the stress of their life, the frantic energy that builds up from being in the same dead town all their lives just builds up. Maybe the only way to release it is onto each other.

Joonmyeon sighs, looking back at the cliffs, searching for the red blob that’s about halfway down.

Eventually, Yifan makes it down, begins running across the rocks as they transition to pebbly sand, waving to Joonmyeon and shouting incoherently. His cheeks are cutely pink, shaggy blonde hair mussed by the wind. He probably didn’t comb it this morning, either.

“Myeon!” Yifan exclaims, doubling over when he reaches Joonmyeon and breathing heavily. “I was worried for you! Do you know what time it is?”

It’s six in the morning. Sunrise.

Joonmyeon is silent.

“It’s six a.m.!” Yifan exasperatedly cries. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed! God, do you know how much you scare me sometimes?”

Joonmyeon fiddles with the sleeve of his blue windbreaker, thumbing a small rip in the nylon and feeling his thick wool sweater through the fabric. “Sorry.” He mumbles.

“You should tell me where you’re going, Joonmyeon.” Yifan sternly commands. He’s always doing that, always commanding. “You’re not ready for a job; You’re staying home while I’m at work. Y’know, I shouldn’t even let you out of the house without me; not since that escapade last month with the cliffs.”

Right. Joonmyeon recalls that memory, feeling a little colder.

 

Tired of everything, defeated by life, he’d gone out to stare at the moon, slipping his way through wet, knee high wild grass to reach the cliff’s edge about two hundred meters from the pale blue house. All he had planned to do was sit, stare at the moon. He’s always had a connection with the moon, found peace in its silvery light. The clouds covered it that night, much like every other. He supposes now that he shouldn’t have expected anything else, not in this cloudy pit of a town. Disappointed, Joonmyeon had stood there, facing the black sea, thinking about what could have possibly done in life to end up here, on this cliff just outside of his tiny hometown with Yifan.

He’d wanted to be something. A doctor, a teacher, he didn’t know. All that was certain is that he’d wanted to make an impact on someone's life, do something greater than himself. Yet, somehow, he didn’t even end up going to college. His only inheritance from his parent’s untimely death was the clifftop house and looming bankruptcy.

He didn’t know why he was so upset. Yifan loved him, told him every day. Yifan apologized for hurting his feelings, for getting angry.

Maybe it was the hydrocodone Joonmyeon had found in a nook between boards in the bathroom that afternoon. Yifan had promised to be done with it. Maybe it was the fact that Joonmyeon couldn’t get a job because of how Yifan talked incessantly about his hospitalizations in the psychiatric ward miles and miles away, years and years before.

Maybe Joonmyeon had wanted to end his life.

He didn’t really know, still doesn’t.

Either way, Yifan had misinterpreted the moment, come rushing out in his pajamas and red windbreaker screaming like a banshee.

There’d been silence the next few days, a few more beers with Yifan’s dinner every night and a few more bruises on Joonmyeon’s body. A few more power plays. 

But Yifan said he loved him.

 

Wind whips around the two, brings Joonmyeon’s mind back to the freezing beach he stands on, the dawn that is just breaking over his head.

“I’m sorry you worried, Yifan.” Joonmyeon replies. He hugs Yifan, feels his warmth wrap around his body. Yifan cards his cold, stiffened fingers through Joonmyeon’s hair, sighing into his shoulder.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re worth it.” He murmurs.

 _Me too_ , Joonmyeon wants to say. _Me too._

The two eventually trudge up the cliff and back into the house, throwing their inevitably damp socks over the space heater and boiling water for tea. Joonmyeon watches disdainfully as Yifan opens the fridge, shuffles tupperwares of mediocre home cooking around for a beer.

“They’re not there.” Joonmyeon mutters into the stove where he watches the kettle to avoid eye contact. “I moved them to make room for the pie Yixing brought.”

“Well where the hell are they then?” Yifan spits, spinning Joonmyeon around to face him. Joonmyeon can’t help it; he flinches.

“You shouldn’t drink. You just woke up.”

“You’re not my mother.” Yifan retorts.

 _But I am your boyfriend_ , Joonmyeon thinks. He doesn’t say his thoughts aloud, never will. Yifan doesn’t want to hear them.

Well, there is one thought he can voice aloud, one way to make Yifan guilty. “Your drinking makes me want to kill myself.” Joonmyeon says, playing one of the only cards he has. He watches Yifan squirm. It brings Joonmyeon some sort of satisfaction to take away one of Yifan’s vices, especially if at the same time he can make Yifan feel bad about it. It’s a power play, just like most actions in their relationship. A constant struggle, seeing who is in control, who can make the other bend. Seeing Yifan so worried, so distraught at losing his access to one of his addictions makes Joonmyeon feel bigger, stronger. Yifan may fall into his alcoholism, his pills, but Joonmyeon can take that away just as easily with the very real threat of his mental health. If Yifan takes his freedom to leave, Joonmyeon takes away the depressants that he depends on.

He won‘t pretend that the relationship is good for either one of them. Won’t pretend that the bruises and yelling he deals with are healthy, that the stress and blame Yifan puts up with are okay. They‘re both manipulative. They both have issues. They both take it out on each other. The thing is, they always make up. Always say, ‘I love you.‘

Joonmyeon supposes that makes it alright, in some sort of way.

Like their sea, storms will pass through their relationship. Docks will splinter, boats will capsize... But it will all end, and eventually, everything will be repaired. Growing up so close to the ocean, seawater is in both of their veins. It‘s only natural that they‘re both so turbulent.

“Fine.” Yifan concedes. “Let’s watch the news before I go to work. How’s jobhunting going for you, by the way?”

Joonmyeon sits down on the couch, a cushion between himself and Yifan. “I can’t find anything."

Yifan grins, something more like baring his white teeth. “Why’s that?"

“You’ve been talking around town about me.” Joonmyeon accuses, mustering up his energy. “You’re telling everyone I’m crazy.”

Yifan’s face morphs into a grimace, teeth still shining. “Myeon, you’ve been in and out of hospitals for a long time...”

“I’m manic depressive, _Fan_. Not a psychopath.”

Yifan is silent.

The teakettle boils, shriek making a sharp break in the atmosphere.

Joonmyeon stands up, paces over to the kitchen. Retrieving two mugs from a cabinet, he makes tea. Green for himself, vanilla chai  for Yifan. The water singes his hand and he washes it under cold water.

Yifan appears in the small kitchen, practically sucking up all the air with his presence. He’s mad, having had time to make up his mind on how he feels about Joonmyeon’s accusations.

“I’m not the reason you can’t get a job.” He growls. “You’re just not trying.”

“You’re spreading my business all over town!” Joonmyeon’s voice rises, anguish seeping in.

Yifan stares at him. Wheels are turning behind his eyes, something is shifting. He grabs his tea and spills the near-boiling water all over his hand, yelping in pain.

Joonmyeon grabs his boyfriend’s hand, to run it under the sink.

Yifan yanks his hand away, slapping Joonmyeon across the face.

Time seems to freeze.

Joonmyeon clutches his cheek, staring at Yifan. Tears threaten to spill over his lids.

“You said you wouldn’t do that anymore.” He whispers.

Yifan’s mouth opens and closes. Holding his burnt hand to his chest, he turns and runs out the door. The thin wood planks slam behind him, and soon Joonmyeon hears their Bronco start up with a bang, and descend the hill.

He’s left alone, standing in the dark kitchen, welt developing on his cheek.

 

When Yifan get’s home, he’s drunk. Joonmyeon is sitting on the couch, absorbed in a nature documentary. Dinner simmers on the kitchen stove, the light in there the only thing other than the glow of the TV that fights off the descending night.

“Did you even go to work today?” Joonmyeon asks dryly as his boyfriend hangs up his jacket and passes behind the couch, probably to search fruitlessly in the kitchen for another beer. They’re in the woodshed.

Yifan doesn’t answer. Joonmyeon hears the predictable sucking sound of the refrigerator opening, and then the clink of condiment jars in the door as it’s slammed shut.

“Why do you insist on fucking with me!” Yifan bellows from the kitchen. His stomping bootsteps shake the thin floorboards as he rushes back to Joonmyeon. “You’re driving me insane!”

“Leave me.” Joonmyeon says quietly, staring at the television but not really seeing anything.

Yifan freezes.

“What?”

“You heard me. Leave me.” Joonmyeon sighs. If he looks at Yifan, everything will break. If he sees his eyes, he’ll fall into the trap of _‘I’m sorry, I love you,’_ and _‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’_ He can’t do this. Not this time. He’s been feeding off of Yifan’s meager happiness for far too long. Yifan’s been breaking Joonmyeon’s heart for even longer.

“I won’t leave you. Are you manic? Is this another episode?” Yifan’s voice sounds frantic. “You said you loved me. Is that a lie? If you really loved me, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Do you love me?” Joonmyeon asks. “Really?”

“Of course!”

The simplicity of the answer, like Yifan didn’t even think before speaking, tears a hole in Joonmyeon’s heart. He swallows back the urge to cry.

“You don’t.” Joonmyeon whispers weakly. “You don’t, you don’t. We can’t love each other, Yifan. We just can’t. Look at what we do to each other! You’re on fucking pain meds and I’m getting worse than I used to be!”

Yifan is silent. Something like a sob fills up the oppressive silence in the house.

Joonmyeon sighs. Stands up, wraps a scarf around his neck, grabs his coat and windbreaker. “If you won’t leave, I have to.” He shakes his head, reaching for the car keys. “I’m sorry.”

Yifan is up in an instant, snatching the keys from Joonmyeon’s hand and in the process tearing a cut into his palm from the wicked edge. Yifan leaps out the front door and hurls the keys into the distance, watching as they arc and eventually disappear into the sea of grass that blows in the evening wind.

Joonmyeon shouts at him, incoherent through the ringing in his ears.

“You can’t leave me.” He finally mutters, something dark, some angered beast in his voice. “I love you.”

Joonmyeon is sobbing, tears falling from his eyes like rain that drips down a windowpane. His head shakes side to side, shoulders jump up and down. “We’re not in love. Not anymore.” He forces out. “We’re rotting.”

With his parting words, he throws himself out the door and into the night. Running for the cliffs, chest heaving, his face freezes in the cold. Joonmyeon scrambles down the sharp, rocky path. He can barely see where his numb hands go, where his feet land. He knows the path by feel, however, and has an advantage over Yifan who picks his way after Joonmyeon like a snail.

Eventually, Joonmyeon reaches the sand. His feet dig into the coarse ground as he dashes to a small dock, just off a rocky outcrop that juts out just a little bit north, close to Yixing’s house.

Yifan yells in the distance. Joonmyeon looks over his shoulder to see Yifan leap the final ten feet of his descent to land roughly in the sand.

His chest tightens, heart screaming for him to go back and help.

Joonmyeon pushes forward. Reaches the dock. His boots pound unsteadily on the dilapidated planks. They creak like they want to break beneath him.

Sail to the next town over, he thinks. Get away from all this.

It’s been his escape plan for a while now, sailing. He didn’t have the guts to do it until now, despite the ill timing. The wind around him is furious, the tops of waves blowing off and stinging his face. He’s really doing it. Really leaving. His chest feels a thousand times lighter than before, but it might be because his heart has fallen out, stayed with Yifan. Joonmyeon’s hands shake as he unties the ropes. He can’t possibly tell if it’s from the biting cold of the sea air, or from his frantic state of mind.

Just as he’s untying the final rope connecting the boat to the dock, Yifan arrives. He’s crying now, too, screaming at Joonmyeon, telling him to please stop, he’s so sorry.

Joonmyeon’s had enough apologies.

He pushes off from the dock, leaving Yifan behind. The night sea, treacherous and lined with infamously sharp spires of rock awaits him.

Just around this outcrop. Just around this outcrop and it will be smoother. The wind will be blocked, the water will be flatter.

 

_Yifan watches through blurry eyes as Joonmyeon’s boat is tossed around in wicked waves. He goes farther and farther out, eventually reaching the outcrop._

_He isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees the sails meet the ocean, Joonmyeon’s blue form tumble upon the rocks._

_He closes his eyes, pretends to be blind._

_Seeing nothing doesn’t help his aching heart._

 

The next morning, Yifan stares at the new dawn. The sun is strong, burning away some of the fog and exposing a ring of blue sky. A cool wind blows through his hair. He shakes his head, sighs. Turning around, he wades through the tall grasses that grow on top of the cliffs and jingles his car keys in his hand. It took him four hours to find them.

The truck doesn’t start up until three tries in. The boxes filled with his and Joonmyeon’s lives weigh it down, make it boatish on the winding turns into town.

On the beach he leaves behind, waves crash on the sand. They don’t know what they’ve done, what they’ve taken from Yifan. He doesn’t think they care. The waves are just waves, crashing endlessly upon the sand. They’re reaching, trying so hard to discover just an inch of new beach, but all they can do is fall onto the same soaked sand.

Just as ceaselessly as the waves pound on the beach, the thick marine air, heavy with decay and salt, will fill the cracks and boards of the clifftop house. The moss on the roof will grow, the grasses will take over the small garden, and eventually, the salvaged boards of the house will be carried to the rocks by the wind, meeting their inevitable destiny to become driftwood.

All traces of Yifan and Joonmyeon will disappear. The cliff will remain, as it always has, watching over the beach. Does it regret having such terrible people living on it for so long? Probably. But now, its chance for rest, for change, has arrived.

The sea doesn’t care. It will rise and fall, rise and fall, day after day without hesitation or mercy. All of life around it can change in a single moment, but without witness, these moments are easily forgotten. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> seems like i hate happiness lately doesn't it  
> leave a comment or talk to me @btsdadd or @dadhakyeon on tumblr!


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